


Only Yours

by Lillianrill



Series: I Belong to You [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Secret Crush, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29652726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillianrill/pseuds/Lillianrill
Summary: A short piece about your changing relationship with the Hound.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader, Sandor Clegane/You
Series: I Belong to You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195289
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Only Yours

If you were to ask yourself how you came to be sitting in his room, in the dark, with only the light of a solitary candle and a bottle of wine to keep you company, you wouldn't have been able to answer.  
Deep down you knew you were there against your better judgement, but you also felt compelled to offer this man your thanks, regardless of whether he required them or not.

Your interest in the Hound had started off as idol curiosity but you now found yourself indebted to him once again, because this wasn't the first time he had intervened on your behalf.

You were a minor lady of a minor northern house and you had traveled south with Lady Sansa as her maid, friend and confident and as such you often found yourself on the receiving end of Joffrey's twisted and cruel sense of humour. At one time you had thought that he reserved it for Sansa alone but just lately he seemed to enjoy torturing her by aiming it at you as well. There had been many a time when both of you had been grateful for the Hounds presence for he seemed to be able to temper Joffrey's inhumanity.

You had poured two cups of Abor red but as time continued to crawl by, you wondered if there would soon be any left. It was certainly helping to calm the uncertainty gathering inside you as you began to think that maybe you had made a mistake by coming here after all.

After a while you became aware of heavy footsteps in the corridor which came to a stop outside the door. You felt a sense of trepidation rise in your chest and your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to enter.  
As the door swung open and he came into the room you sat quietly, waiting for him to notice you. As soon as he did he offered you a glare from beneath his one remaining heavy brow.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' He growled.

'Forgive me.' You managed to stutter. 'I just came to offer you my thanks... For the other day...' You let your voice trail off.

'I don't need your thanks, girl.' He turned and began unbuckling his sword belt which he left on the bed.

'I've brought wine.' You offered, pushing the second cup across the table in his direction.  
He came towards you and downed the drink in one go, and slammed the cup back on the table.  
'Fill it.' He said, not taking his eyes off you.  
'And tell me again why you've come here,' he rumbled in his low voice.

This time you looked him in the eyes, feeling slightly more confident. 'I came to say thank you.'  
He huffed. 'Then you are more stupid than I thought. He will kill you if he finds you here. Seven hells, he'll probably kill us both!'

You lowered your eyes under the heat of his admonishment.  
'Go back to your room girl and don't come here again. Not if you value your life.'

You got up from your chair feeling completely embarrassed and incredibly silly for daring to think he might welcome your sentiments.

'You can leave the wine,' he said. You nodded your head and turned to leave. You made your way to the door, and hoped that he might offer you more words, but he didn't. He sat and drank the wine in silence and you left the room and closed the door quietly behind you.

_____________________________________________

It was a poor start you had to admit. You were feeling cross with yourself for your naivety. You had no reason to believe that he would entertain your company so why had you bothered.  
In the whole of the following week he didn't speak a single word to you. He never looked your way, never acknowledged your presence. You might as well have been invisible as far as he was concerned.  
However, deep down inside you had an overriding desire to see him again, this inscrutable enigma of a man. A man who by all accounts scared every woman in King's Landing; and, you would be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that he scared you a little too.  
You were confused by the conflicting feelings that he aroused in you and you certainly didn't want to analyse their meaning too closely.  
After taking time to think things through you resolved yourself to try again.

_____________________________________________

'Fuck... You again. What do you want this time?'  
You glanced briefly each way down the corridor, to check if the coast was clear. 'Can I come in?'  
He thought about it for a few seconds and then to your surprise he held the door open for you.  
'You've not come here with more pointless niceties have you?'  
You shook your head.  
'And you've forgotten what I told you last time.'  
'Which was what?' You asked somewhat bravely.  
He answered with a grunt while eyeing the bottle in your hand.  
'That Abor Red?'  
You nod, looking at him and giving him a conciliatory smile.  
Taking the bottle from your hand, he moved over to the shelf and fetched two cups, set them on the table and filled them.

'So, why are you here?'  
You gave him a casual shrug.  
He shook his head, 'fucking women. Don't know anything.'  
'At least this time I'm a woman. Last week I was a girl.'  
'Aye, and still as stupid.'

He reached over for more wine and filled your cup again.  
'He'll know you've been here. He knows everything fucking thing that goes on in this keep. And if he doesn't then Varys will. Are you so desperate to end up dead?'  
'Maybe he won't find out?'  
'He always finds out.'  
He sat down in a chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. 'Are you going to sit down or do you plan on standing up all evening?' He grumbled.  
All evening? This was progress, you thought to yourself.

You gathered your skirts and pulled up the chair opposite him. An awkward silence began to form as you tried to think of a topic for conversation. You realised that Sandor Clegane was not known for talking; he was more of the strong, silent type and he wasn't going to make it easy for you. Eventually though you plucked up enough courage to ask him a question.  
'Do you ever think about leaving King's Landing?'  
'Aye.' He replied, continuing to stare straight ahead at the wall.  
'Then why don't you?'  
He turned to look at you condescendingly. 'What makes you think I have a choice? You think I serve that shit Joffrey because I have a choice?'  
Inside you berated yourself for asking such a stupid question.  
'Besides, where would I go?' He turned back to his wine and gulped it down. He poured himself another one and offered you a top up.  
'What about you?' He asked.  
You nod. 'All the time.'  
'Then why don't you?' He mimicked your words with a smug look on his face and you tried to ignore his self-satisfaction.  
'They would never let me leave. If I ran I wouldn't get very far before they sent men after me.'  
The Hound smirked. 'They would probably send me, and how do you think that would end up for you?'  
You stared at him for a moment trying to fathom some hidden meaning in what he had just said.  
'So, here we are,' you eventually replied, 'two people trapped by circumstance and unable to do anything about it.'  
'Aye, best we just shut up and get on with it.'

You spend the rest of the evening talking quietly about different things. Well, mostly you talked and the Hound listened, occasionally offering opinions.  
Eventually you both became aware of the lateness of the hour.  
'Seven hells!' He complained. 'You women talk a lot. I bet you talk in your sleep too!'  
You couldn't help a smile as you looked at him from across the table.  
'What?' He grumbled when he noticed you staring.  
'Nothing.' You shook your head as you investigated the empty wine bottle.  
He huffed. 'Bring more next time.'

_____________________________________________

And so it started. Once a week. Every week. You would visit The Hound, in his room, armed with two bottles of Arbor Red. Between visits however, he continued to barely acknowledge you.  
You began to look forward to your secret meetings and you were becoming aware of certain other feelings that were subtly creeping their way into your heart and mind. You found yourself stealing glances at him when you thought no-one was looking, admiring him from afar. Occasionally your thoughts wandered to how it would feel to be in his arms, or to place your lips against his. You knew this was dangerous but somehow you couldn't help yourself.  
You had come to realise that you had an unexplained attraction to this man that most women would have found abhorrent.  
To you he wasn't hideous, ugly or frightening, he was just Sandor. A man like any other with hopes and dreams and fears. Just a man who had been abused by his brother and who had no other family; a man who was exploited by his king and was misunderstood and misjudged by everyone else around him. Sure, he was outwardly rough and grumpy, foul mouthed and offensive but you suspected this was a wall he had built to keep the world at bay. 

_____________________________________________

There came an evening a few weeks later when you found yourself sitting on his bed, your arms clasped around your knees and tears running down your face.  
The room was dark and cold, the last rays of sun not reaching this far into the keep and there were no candles to see by. There was no fire in the grate, just an empty opening, staring vacantly at you; there was never a fire in his room, and for that you couldn't blame him.  
You sat in silence, your body shaking as you rocked yourself slowly like a small child and waited for him to return.  
When he did finally open the door the first thing he heard were your sobs coming from the corner of the room. His eyes scanned the darkness, taking in the situation; you were huddled on the bed with your knees pulled up tight to your chin.  
With three long strides he crossed the room to your side.  
'What happened?' He growled as anger flared in his eyes.  
You shook your head. 'It's nothing, really, I'm okay.' You tried to placate him.  
'Like fuck you are. Let me see.'  
He knelt beside you and lifted your chin to look. Even in the dark he could see what had been done to you; your face was covered in bruises and cuts.  
'Who did this?'  
You shook your head again. 'It doesn't matter who did it.'  
'It matters to me.' He grated.

He moved across the room and you could hear him fumbling with the candles. Light began to flicker and a glow started to chase the darkness away.  
You watched him as he filled the wash bowl from a pitcher and found a cloth. He came back to you and sat on the bed and began to gently clean the dried blood from your face.  
'I'm sorry the water's cold.' He said.  
'That's okay,' you replied, as you watched him concentrate on your face. His brow was furrowed and his mouth was set in a firm line but it was his eyes that commanded your attention; deepest, darkest brown and, to your surprise, full of concern.  
Suddenly you took a sharp breath as he found a particularly painful spot and your reverie was broken.  
'These bruises aren't going to look so pretty,' he observed, frowning.  
'Then we will make a fine pair,' you replied without thinking.  
He carried on with his task but looked at you steadily. 'Aye. We will,' he said quietly.  
You averted your gaze from his face, feeling a small flutter in the pit of your stomach.

'There,' he said as he lifted your face to inspect his work. 'Now. How about you tell me who it was?'  
As you watched his stoney expression you realised that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Without taking your eyes off him you swallowed hard and whispered 'Ser Meryn.'  
'Ser Meryn Fucking Trant?'  
You nodded your head in acknowledgement.  
'Then I'm going to fucking kill him.'

Those were the words you were afraid he would say.

You didn't dare hope that his eagerness to punish Trant was because he had feelings for you or that you meant something to him. Or perhaps he was just looking for some way to redeem himself for his own past deeds? 

'Please Sandor, don't do anything stupid.' You begged him.  
He turned and glared at you, he looked so angry. You didn't understand; was he angry at you?  
You took a step towards him and raised your hand to touch his face; he flinched at the contact but didn't move.  
'Please.' You said again as you shook your head. 'Don't make it worse.'  
He stared at you, fighting some internal conflict and you wished you could read his mind and get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

He was completely unaware that at that very same moment you were struggling with your own feelings. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and you suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. Impulsively you reached up with both hands and pulled him down to meet your lips. You could feel his whole body tense but he responded to your kiss none the less.  
Eventually he grabbed you and forced you away, holding you at arms length.  
'What the fuck are you doing?'  
Shocked by what had just happened you could only manage a stuttering reply, 'I... I'm sorry... I thought...'  
'Well you thought wrong. Don't ever do that again.'  
He looked at you with fire in his eyes and also something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on; desire maybe? Abruptly he let go of you, almost pushing you away, and turned to leave, letting the door slam behind him. You could hear his feet echoing down the corridor, while his anger lingered in the room.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, you cursed yourself. How could you have let that happen? What on earth had possessed you?  
You sat on the edge of the bed with your face in your hands; you knew exactly what you had done, and you knew exactly why; you wanted him.  
Were you in love with him? You didn't know, but, what you did know was that you wanted him more than any other man you had ever met, and now you had angered him and he had gone.

You collapsed on to the bed and resigned yourself to the fact that he would probably never speak to you again. Small tears began to escape your eyes and you quickly brushed them away. You wouldn't let yourself cry over him, you were stronger than that. 

You knew that you should be getting back to your room, Sansa would be wondering where you were but somehow you couldn't bring yourself to leave. You were curled on his bed amongst the sheets and blankets that smelt of him, and it comforted you. 

After a while you began to relax and finally you drifted off to sleep.

_____________________________________________

It was late when you were suddenly alerted to someone entering the room. The candles had burned low but still gave out enough light to be able to see. Sandor approached the bed and looked at you.  
'Still here I see. I thought you'd be gone'.  
'I'm sorry. I fell asleep.'  
You sat up and pulled yourself out of the warm bed.  
'Where have you been?' You asked,  
although you didn't really want to know the answer.  
'Out...Drinking.' He said as he began to try and remove his armour.  
'Fuck,' he cursed as his fingers struggled with the buckles.  
'Here, let me help.' You offered.  
'No. Don't touch me. I can manage.'

Inside you could feel your heart sinking as you blinked away those stubborn tears again. You sighed deeply and regretfully, unsure of what to do. Half of you wanted to disappear, but the other half needed so desperately to stay, knowing that if you left now, you would never have another chance to say how you felt.  
'I should go...' You said sadly as you watched him pile his armour in the corner. 'And by the way, I'm really sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.'  
You cast your eyes downward as you made your way to the door, but his voice stopped you before you could open it.  
'Wait...Tell me, what do you see happening between us?'  
You lifted your head and looked at him and all you could see was bitterness. You shook your head slowly. 'I don't know.'  
He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his hand across his face. 'I'm not the man for you. You might think I am, but I'm not.'  
'Please Sandor.' You whispered almost begging him.  
'Listen, will you!' He said, raising his voice. 'I am not a good man. I have done things, bad things, things that no man should have done and I've done them because at the time I enjoyed it. I kill, I drink, I gamble and I whore. Is that what you want in a man?..You deserve someone better.' 

You slowly moved over to stand before him and looked into his eyes. 'But I don't want anyone else,' you said. 'For some inexplicable reason I want you. There is nobody that I would rather be with.'  
'You have no idea what you're saying. This is beyond my experience. I am only good for fucking whores and you are not a whore. I will not demean you.'  
'Sandor Clegane, I have made up my mind, and, if you want me I would give myself to you willingly, with all my heart. Nobody is so beyond love and redemption.  
'Then you are a fool. I would take you, I would use you and I would ruin you.'  
'Good. That is what I want. I want to be yours and yours alone.' You looked at him defiantly, almost daring him to refuse you.

He stared at you and you could see him thinking about what you had said.  
'You must be some kind of mad fucking bitch, you know that?'  
'Well maybe I am.'  
'You would give yourself to me?'  
'I would.'

Slowly he closed the distance between you and took your face in his hands, drawing you in for a fierce kiss. His lips were warm and tasted of wine, insistent and bruising in their intensity. You let out a small cry as his hands and lips pressed against your already bruised face but it didn't stop you from responding with one of your own, just as desperate and heated.  
You placed one of your arms around his neck while the other hand tangled in his hair, pulling him towards you.Your need for him quickly became all consuming and you hung onto him tightly, craving the feel of him next to you.  
He moved his kisses across your jaw, gently and carefully, so as not to hurt you and began to slowly trail them down your neck and along your shoulder..  
You pushed yourself against him as you felt his lips slide across your skin causing you to sigh softly.

You eventually broke away from him and urged him to help you with your clothing.  
'How in seven hells do you get this thing off?' He asked in a desperate growl.  
You turned your back to him and he untied the sash; you then gathered the hem and started to pull the dress off. His hands joined yours as he pushed it up your body and over your head, discarding it on the floor.  
'Fuck,' he groaned as he looked at you standing before him. His eyes were feverish with heat as he took in every inch of your body. You began to tug on his own shirt so you could remove it; then it was your turn to stare. By the gods you thought to yourself, you had never seen a man like him; his chest was broad and muscular and covered in the darkest of hair. There were scars that you wanted to reach out and touch; to trace your fingers along their length. You slid your hands across his skin, feeling his warmth and the firmness of his body; he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations that you were causing.  
'Are you sure this is what you want?' He asked.  
'Yes, more than anything.'  
You helped him to remove his remaining clothes before he pulled you into his arms and held you tight, burying his face in your hair. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing and you wrapped your arms and legs around him.  
He carried you to the bed and layed you down before climbing in beside you. His hands were rough but he was careful as he explored your exposed skin. You found yourself trembling under his touch as it lit a fire deep down inside you.  
He was kissing you now, everywhere, and you arched your back and writhed against him, wanting more.  
'Sandor...Please...' You whispered, almost pleading with him.  
He groaned deeply, 'Fuck. If I'd have known that you were this willing I'd have done this sooner.'  
He continued his kisses until he reached your most intimate place. You could feel the heat of his mouth against you and you couldn't help let a small cry escape your lips as his tongue gently tasted you. Your hips pushed up to meet him and you could feel the pressure growing as he brought you closer to your release. Your fingers were curled into the sheets as your desire escalated into searing need.  
'Fuck... Sandor, please...' You whined, so close to letting yourself go.  
Suddenly he stopped and you moaned in frustration. You could feel how hard he was as he moved over you, pushing your legs apart so he could rest between your thighs. You could feel him there, teasing you, rubbing against you; you thrust your hips against him, encouraging him to enter you, desperate to feel him inside you.  
When he finally did it was like nothing you had ever known before. You couldn't remember anything feeling so good.  
You stared up at him and he didn't take his eyes from you, savouring every moment and enjoying every expression of pain and pleasure written on your face. He set a surprisingly slow rhythm to begin with and soon you were begging him for more. His body moving in time with yours ignited every nerve in your body.  
Deep inside you could feel yourself slowly coming undone with every kiss, every touch and every thrust.  
Eventually it was too much to bear and with his name on your lips you let yourself fall from the peak of your pleasure into waves of delicious extascy.  
He followed soon after with his own release, cursing under his breath as he spilled inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, feeling each others heartbeats become more regular. After a while he moved and you hated the feeling of his warmth leaving you. You turned and snuggled into him and to your surprise he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, even placing a small kiss on your head.  
This is hardly what you expected from him but it brought a smile to your face and hope to your heart. You realised that there was no going back now; for better or worse this was the path you had chosen.

Was this the beginning of something strange and beautiful? Or a nightmare that you would be unable to escape from?

_____________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first GOT fic so please let me know what you think. I may possibly be tempted to carry on with the story so I've left the ending open deliberately.


End file.
